⋆˚꩜｡𝜗𝜚

19

[missymiffy]

⋆˙⟡ master list ৎ୭

Kinktober 25’

Clark Kent

+16 That’s nice sweetie | 1.4k words

⤿ Clark comes home from work stressed out and wound up, you fix that.

imagines

Joel Miller

+16 it’s all i want to eat | 1k words

⤿ you can’t stop thinking about Joel eating you out

carmen berzatto

can it wait | 700 words

⤿ carmen keeps putting the restaurant before you

[strangergraphics]

button dividers:

please like and credit if you use, reblogs are appreciated! thank you! 💕

[missymiffy]

Kinktober 25'

October 15- dacryphilia

sub!art donaldson x reader

wc: 900

whiny art, dacryphilia, hand job, masturbation (m. receiving), no use of y/n, dc

Art looks up at you through his eyelashes, sticky and clumped together with tears. His whole body aches with a helpless rhythm: his chin wobbles, brows are drawn tight and his shoulders are hunched. His eyes are wide, glassy and pleading. His lips are raw and swollen from anxiously gnawing on them, slick from the nervous habit he can't control. 

“Please, baby, I'm sorry,” Art's words fall from his lips. "I'll never do it again– I mean it,” his shaky hands brush against your knees, searching for forgiveness “Please. I won’t- sweetheart, forgive me." His voice cracks, panicked and desperate.

Your silence is unbearable. His eyes dart between yours, desperate to know what you were thinking. He threw that match– you saw it. Everyone did. He was eliminated from the tournament because he wasn't good enough. 

He's pathetic, you're never going to love him now. How could you? He's weak and useless. 

the thought cuts into Art, and so do his teeth. A desperate and feeble attempt at distraction.

“Oh,” the sound is soft; your eyes are gentle and warm. You crouch down in front of him and cup his quivering jaw as though he's something fragile, something worth holding.

“Im not mad.” your brows curve upward, weighted with guilt for making Art feel so small. His fingers worry the seam of your skirt, twisting and folding the fabric in his trembling hands. 

“Darling, so what if you lost?” you murmur, thumbs stroking his damp cheeks. “There's always another tournament.” Your tone is so forgiving and patient.

“Im useless,” he croaks. “i call myself a tennis player but i cant even play tennis”

“Art.” you look at him in an attempt to tell him wordlessly that's a stupid thing to say. "I've watched every single one of your matches. You can play tennis. You play amazing tennis” 

his eyes are trained onto the carpet, too ashamed to meet yours.

Your fingers gently find his hands, squeezing them, reminding Art that you're here. A sob ripples from his chest and he lets out a shaking exhale. 

“Youre more than a match. You don't have to win for me to love you.” Your words are gentle and grounding. Your hands are back on his face, trying to make him look up at you instead of searching for patterns in the carpet.

His chest heaves again, involuntarily.

“Awh. Shh, it's okay.”

 Art's head falls onto your shoulder, and you immediately feel the warm dampness of his tears soaking through your shirt. You pet the soft golden locks on the nape of Art's neck, listening guiltily to his rough, dry sobs.

“You're alright. breathe” 

Art sobs slow into soft whimpers as you cradle him. The warmth of being wrapped up in your body heat calms him down. 

It reminds him of when he was little, and he'd fall over while chasing Patrick around the playground. He'd limp up to his mum, crying and showing her his grazed knee– she'd hold him in her lap and cradle him until he stopped crying, whispering in his ear that he was going to be okay.

His chest slows, and he stops heaving into your shoulder. The rise and fall of his chest now match the rhythm of your hand petting his golden curls. Your touch grounds him. He's forgotten why he was so worked up in the first place.

You tenderly press your lips into the crown of his hair. The only sounds that can be heard in your dorm are the steadiness of your breath and the slowing of Arts. 

His shoulders drop. His breath hitches once in relief, and he leans into your touch, welcoming the orange-gold warmth he feels sinking in.

His hips roll messily against your lap. “Art, what are yo–”

Oh.

You can feel Arts hard-on bulging against your thigh. He's achingly hard. Poor baby– he was probably so whiney and upset because he needs you to make him cum. 

You reach down, undoing the strings on Arts tennis shorts. Art leans back on his hands and lifts his hips, letting you pull down his shorts and underwear in one swift movement.

Art's tip is flushed a bruising red, a pearly bead of pre forming at his slit. Your thumb swipes across his head and you watch the tension melt from his body. He hadn't noticed the tightness in his shoulders or the ache in his back until it faded completely. 

You ball up your hands and squeeze the base of his cock slightly, drawing a whine from the back of his throat. Your grip moves up his length slowly, pulling broken cries from Art. 

Sloppy and desperate, his hips buck into your fist, chasing anything you give him. Raw, hot tears retrace the dampness on his cheeks, and he's crying again, but this time out of pleasure.

Your hand speeds up when you feel Art getting closer to finishing. His face is flushed, his cheeks are damp, and his lips are rosy and raw from his teeth. 

Art's body aches with pleasure. His forearms twitch from holding him up for so long, and he can taste metallic tang of blood in his mouth from biting his lip too hard. 

You watch as Art's body tenses. His breath hitches and a broken cry erupts from the back of his throat. His cum spurts onto your hand and his thighs.

 Art sighs and slumps onto your shoulder, mindlessly sucking the flesh above your collarbone.

“Need you-” Art murmurs, pawing at the hem of your shirt.

a/n: i could add more to this but then it would be late. soooooo...

Kinktober 25

[missymiffy]

Kinktober 25'

October 5th- Oral fixation

Spencer Reid x reader

wc: 900

NSFW mdni, oral fixation, thumb sucking, oral (m.receiving), dc, no use of y/n

Spencer has noticed you have an oral fixation a while now, you always needed something in your mouth: your nails, a pen cap, an over-chewed piece of gum. 

He watched you from over the pages of his book, eyes flicking between the page and the small rituals you go through. You hunt for a flaw: a hangnail, a chip, any imperfection in your nails worth fussing over.

Once you finally found one, you glance across the couch at Spencer with your index finger still pressed between your teeth

“Thats a really bad habit,” he says gently. 

“Sorry,” you quickly move your hands from your mouth, twiddling your thumbs in your lap.

“Do you know what an oral fixation is?” 

“No…?” you reply cautiously 

“An oral fixation is an obsession with behaviors involving the mouth, such as smoking, excessive eating, gum chewing, thumb-sucking, and nail-biting,” he gestures towards you, where you are already absent-mindedly picking at your thumbs.

“It's used as a coping mechanism for anxiety or stress-” Spencer, too enveloped in his ramble, hadn't noticed you inching closer.

“Do you think kissing would help?” you say smirking at the way his hands are gesturing while he speaks.

“Well technically yes, due to it involving the mou-” you pulled his chin to your face, and your lips connected.

he took your bottom lip between his, sucking gently, drawing a soft barely there sound from you. Then you felt it, his tongue brushing against your lips, a silent plea for more.

You opened for him, slow and wanting, and his tongue slid past your lips with a quiet desperation that mirrored your own. The kiss deepened, messy and aching, all need and no restraint. 

His hands found your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer. His mouth is hot and bruising, the way his tongue moves is like a secret language, primal and unspoken. 

His lips part and your tongues meet– warm, slick, searching. The rhythm shifts into something more than desperation. Every movement is electric, you feel the tension build in your body, each flit of his tongue sends sparks through your nerves.

You pull away but a string of spit still connects your lips. His hands still hold you, his palms cradling your jaw, and his thumb swipes over your lips.

Spence's eyes are blown out and unfocused, his lips are slick and flushed– they match the tint in his cheeks as he thinks about his next move. The soft, fleshy pad of his thumb gently traces your lips, moving smoothly across the collection of drool he's forming around his thumb.

His thumb trespasses your lips, meeting the lusting heat of your mouth. Spencer's lips are parted and his brows raise slightly when he pushes his thumb further, seeing just how far he can go. 

Your eyes are trained onto his face, studying every pull of his brows and twitch of his lips. When his thumb meets your tongue, out of habit, you hollow out your cheeks and swirl around his thumb. Spencer's brows draw tight at this and he is hypnotised by the sight, he can't look away. His girl all fuzzy minded sucking on his thumb, Spencer is too distracted to even think about how many germs he could be putting into your wet, hot, mouth…

Reluctantly, Spencer pulls his thumb from your mouth. He does so steadily, watching the drool fall from your lips and onto your chin. He collects it with the wrinkled, silken pad of his thumb. 

“Do you want help with that?” you say gesturing Spencer's crotch. 

Spencer hadn't noticed the painful throb of the hard on before now, he was in too deep a trance earlier to feel it swell under his pants that felt way too restricting right now.

“Y-yes, please” Spencer whines as he is already undoing his belt with a quiet clink. 

you sit on the floor in between his thighs, watching him pull out his length. He's already achingly hard, his tip is flushed angry red and leaking pre cum before you even touch him.

Through your eyelashes you see Spencer watching you, his pupils almost black from lust. You lower your head slowly, mouth watering in anticipation. 

Your lips wrap around is cock and you dip down with hollow cheeks and a flat tongue. You don't stop until you can feel his head throbbing at the back of your throat.

“You’re doing so well” Spencer rasps under his breath. He balls what hair he can into a ponytail and guides your head up and down his length. You press a flattened tongue to the underside of his cock, whining when he pushes your nose into his crotch a little too far. Your muffled whines and pleas send vibrations of pleasure through Spencer's body, making him  unable to control his hips bucking up into your face.

Your lips are swollen, drool runs down your chin and Spencer is heavy on your tongue. You know he's close to finishing– whines and curses keep slipping from his lips.

His hips jerk and stutter, choked gasps and whimpers wash over you– each sound a raw note of his pleasure. His cock is pulsing and throbbing on your tongue, and you can see his stomach tightening. His grip on your hair grows desperate and you force him as deep as you can. Then finally his hot spend spurts into your mouth, the bitter saltiness dissolves sinfully on your tongue.

Kinktober 2025

[missymiffy]

Kinktober 25'

October 1- Spanking

mean!Rafe Cameron x reader

wc: 500

Rafe's pace is cruel and unkind, one hand is held firm on your hip and the other swats your ass repeatedly, you gasp out in pain at each harsh swat.

“No!” You cry and kick your legs trying to get away from Rafe's cruel grasp, but his grip is firm and unwavering. His strong hand dances from one cheek to the other, returning to the same spot again and again, almost too much, before trailing downward to begin the routine anew.

“I don't want a spanking” you cry, kicking your legs against his firm grip; you wail again when he hits you in a sensitive spot for the third time in a row.

“-tuff” his voice is short; he's acting indifferent to your undoing, He continues to pepper sting and burn your backside.

You try to get up on your arms and almost succeed, freeing yourself from his persistent swats but his free hand pushes you down, and buries your face into the sheets. Rafe pauses-

“Keep the hands to yourself” you whine hopelessly into a pillow in response, kicking your legs trying to stand.

“No!” you don't mean it in defiance- it's a plea for him not to continue his relentless punishment, you think and feel you've learnt your lesson. 

“Keep your hands to yourself.” He starts up again but this time he hits you so much harder and faster, there's no time to breathe, his flat palm searing its mark on your ass.

You stay still trying so hard to behave, but the pain is overwhelming. You lose control of yourself. Your legs kick at his calves, trying to dodge his punishing force, but instead of ignoring you he stops again, his hand splayed on your ass possessively.

“Keep still.” he warns. When he resumes spanking you it's harder than before, his pace is slower giving you a second longer to recover but each swat is red hot against your ass.

“But it hurts!” you cry desperately, the burn of his palm cuts deeper and you beg for him to stop thrashing against him. Rafe stops to wrap his legs around yours, disabling your squirms.

“Fine.” you think its all over, your punishments over. But it's not. The next sound in the room was the solid crack of plastic against skin.

You wailed, trying to kick and writhe away but Rafe knew what you were like– his legs were caged around yours. Each swat of the hairbrush felt like liquid fire being poured onto your already burning skin.

“Ah! Ah! Ow ow! Ah ow!” you can't think straight, the pain is the only thing you can think about. You choke on your cries as tears well in your eyes. Your whole body jerks with each crack of the hairbrush and blistering pain burns through your lower body. 

“I didn't- i didn't do anything- i didn't do anything wrong!” you loudly wept into the sheets, a pool of tears and drool sticking to your face.

kinktober 2025

[missymiffy]

Kinktober '25 ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦ ๋ ࣭⭑꒷꒦

oct 1. Spanking⋆˚࿔ Rafe Cameron

oct 5. Oral fixation⋆˚࿔ Spencer Reid

oct 15. Dacryphillia⋆˚࿔ Art Donaldson

oct 25. Dry humping ⋆˚࿔ Joel Miller

oct 31. Over stimulation ⋆˚࿔ Clark Kent

main master-list

[missymiffy]

that's nice sweetie

Clark Kent x Reader

cw: nsfw MDNI, sexually explicit content, oral (m. receiving), no use of y/n, established relationship, lil bit of subby!clark

summary: clark comes home from work upset and wound up, you fix that.

wc: 1.4k

You’d been waiting for Clark to come home for what felt like hours, curled up on the couch with one of the many books stacked along his living room shelves. The spine creaked in your hands, but the words refused to stick; you found yourself rereading the same sentence over and over, your attention slipping away. The tick of the wall clock filled the silence, marking each minute he stayed away.

Your gaze drifted around the room. The shelves were overflowing, Clark never had the heart to get rid of a single book, even the ones he didn’t like. A coffee mug sat abandoned on the side table, half full and cold. The space felt lived in, warm, but without him there, it carried a restless energy.

You tried to anchor yourself in the story on your lap, but your thoughts kept circling back to earlier in the day. Those girls at work, their eyes darting toward you, their whispers sharp and mean. You could still feel their stares prickling the back of your neck. Jimmy had noticed, of course, and cracked some ridiculous joke to make you laugh, but even that hadn’t managed to shake the unease completely.

You wondered how you’d bring it up to Clark when he finally got back. Maybe you’d frame it as a funny anecdote. Maybe you’d admit how much it had actually gotten under your skin. You weren’t sure. But you wanted to tell him, needed to tell him–  because if anyone could make the world feel safer again, it was Clark.

When Clark finally comes home he slams the door with a huff, “Clark, honey what's wrong?” You call from the sofa. Clark flops down next to you, shoulders tight and his brows drawn into a stormy line. He lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh. 

“The editors refused to even read my article!” he burst out breathless with frustration. “Three weeks- I spent three whole weeks on it, and they wouldn’t even look at it! Why? I-I thought they’d love it! It was good! I could write the whole paper better than those losers.” His voice cracked as he stumbled over his words, anger and disbelief tangling together.

Clark had decided to stay late and pitch his article to the news editors, he had worked really hard on this article and was desperate for it to be more than a forgotten piece shoved on the last page. 

“Oh, honey,” you murmured, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “I’m sorry. I know it was good. Your articles always are.” 

But your words barely reached him. He barreled on, his leg bouncing up and down, fingers curling into restless fists. “And the way they dismissed me- so rude! They didn’t even…” He trailed off only to start again, circling the same wound.

You let his voice fade into the background, part of you listening, part of you watching. The way his hands trembled slightly, the way his hair curled down onto his forehead in disarray, the flush creeping up his cheeks. He was working himself up more and more, trapped inside the spiral of his own disappointment.

That was when the thought came to you– sudden, uninvited, but insistent. An idea flickered in the back of your mind, and before you even realized it, you were half-smiling to yourself. You tuned back into his rant, humming softly in acknowledgment, but your attention was already shifting, your plan quietly forming.

You eased yourself off the couch and settled onto the floor between Clark’s knees, humming faintly in rhythm with his rant as if to reassure him you were still listening. When you glanced up, though, his eyes were far away, fixed on the carpet as he kept working himself up.

Two can play at that game, you thought with a sly flicker of amusement.

Clark’s legs bounced restlessly, his frustration radiated off him in waves, so strong you could almost feel it in the air. That stubborn curl of hair had fallen loose again, sticking to his damp forehead, the same one you’d brushed aside earlier with all the gentleness he hadn’t noticed.

And as you studied him, your idea solidified, tugging at you with more certainty than before.

You unbuckle the belt on his jeans, metal clinking softly as you tug at it. "What are you doing, are you even listening to me” his whole face scrunches into confusion, and his eyes finally flick down at you.

You briefly meet his gaze, letting the glint of mischief answer for you, “Hm i’m listening ‘they didn't even acknowledge you’.” – you quote his few last words back to him.

“YEAH and!-” you set him off again. Clark isn't paying attention to you tugging the zip down on his jeans until your nails accidentally scrape his lower stomach whilst you were clumsily undoing his jean button.

A startled noise catches in his throat. “Ow! What are you doing?”

“I was going to give you a blow job… is that okay?”

“I-oh, uh thats- yeah thats okay” Clark says suddenly speechless, chest rising and falling quickly- now shocked out of his ramble.

You smile up at him with false innocence and tug down his pants, Clark quickly pulls out his half hard dick for you. With a gentle grip, you work your hands up and down his length, until you can feel him getting harder under your palms. Your thumb circles his slit, Clark's hips buck into your hand and pre-cum leaks from his flushed tip. 

Before you bow your head down you look at Clark through your eyelashes, wordlessly asking for permission. When he nods eagerly you allow your lips to tease the head, suckling slightly, savoring the salty taste of his pre-cum. You swirl your tongue over his slit and Clark whines. 

“Hon- baby, pl- please” he pants,

You hollow out your cheeks and widen your jaw until it clicks– you had to because of how big Clark was. Then you force his dick as far down as you can, not stopping until you feel his head pushing against the back of your throat. The vibration of your moans has clark using all his will power not to buck his hips up and fuck your face until you break.

Clark's fingers cautiously tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck guiding your head up and down his length. Clark knows how big he is. His movements are soft and gentle, he really doesn't want to hurt you. His cock is thick and heavy on your tongue, filling your mouth when you take him deeper, your nose brushing against his crotch. 

“Oh- keep going, ah~feels so good” you look up at Clark, his head lolls back against the couch, a sheen of sweat glistening along his throat, the warm lamplight sculpting him into something achingly beautiful.

You move your head up and along his length skilfully, flattening your tongue against the bottom of his erection, feeling each pulse of his veins. Clark's groans motivate you to bob your head faster, drool running down your chin. On the length you can't fit in your mouth, you slowly stroke him with your hands. Your palms grow slick, the drool smearing along his cock, making every stroke glide so easy. 

Your jaw aches from the strain and your fingers tingle with numbness from holding him so tight, but none of that matters when Clarks soft whines and low purrs wash over you, each sound a raw note of his pleasure. His cock is throbbing and pulsing under your tongue, and you feel the throb between your legs. You can taste him getting nearer to finishing, feeling his pre-cum start to coat the back of your throat.

Clark lets out a shaky breath as his abs contract and his hips stutter, his grip on your hair now desperate. You give him a hungry look of approval, before forcing him as deep as you can. He whimpers when he spills his load down your throat, and you greedily swallow it all as he empties his balls into your mouth.

When you pull off him, out of breath and with slick lips you tease “Still upset about work?”

“No.” Clark sighs and his mouth curls into a lazy smile, his mind so foggy from his orgasm work is a worry he can't even remember. You pull yourself up onto the coach and melt into Clark, smiling into his neck when he presses a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

[wokeuplaughing]

just did a tarot pull it said I'm gonna get my dick sucked and that everyone loves me

[missymiffy]

Can It Wait?

carmen berzatto x reader

tags: mean!carmy, apologies, light kissing, no use of y/n, established relationship, horrible sleep schedules, gender neutral reader but pet names are kinda feminine

wc: 700

a/n: this is is a quick one and i kinda hate it, i just wanted to get it over and done with.

3 hours ago you woke up. Since then your duvet was too short– never covering your whole  body or too tight– wrapping around your waist making it hard to breathe. People outside didn't stop shouting or singing horribly off-key, breaks didn't stop screaming to a stop. Your body never would stay still. Your feet would twist together itching to stand up. Your legs were never in the right position, always pulling a muscle in your leg, your arms felt foreign– you kept laying on them funny, making you ache 10 minutes later. 

You could not stop rolling uncomfortably on the mattress, the mattress you and Carmen should be sleeping in. But he wasn't there, he was probably at that stupid restaurant. He gives that restaurant more attention than he gives you, more attention than he gives anyone.

Finally you gave in and rubbed the sleep you would never get out of your eyes. You fumbled in the dark for your phone; when you finally found it the light from your phone screen made your eyes water. It took a couple seconds for your eyes to adjust and see the screen but when they did you opened up ‘Find My IPhone’ as quickly as your fatigued mind could. After what felt like forever the app stopped buffering and so did the ache behind your eyes– that idiot, Carmen was at ‘THE BEAR’ like you knew he would be.

Carmy often spent whole nights at his restaurant but tonight he told you he wouldn't stay late, he promised that he would follow after you he just had “some shit left to do”. What a liar; he'd been there for 5 hours after you left.

You let out an exhausted sigh and flopped onto your back starting at the ceiling contemplating if you should even go and get him. You should, right? You should get him. Slowly, you peeled yourself out of bed and put some clothes on, getting really pissed off this is becoming a routine.

~~

In the kitchen under the harsh lights you could see the tension in Carmen's back, he was hunched over a plate, you couldn't see his face but if you could, you know he'd be scowling at the dish.

“Carmy– babe it's 2am. Come home” You sound desperate. You try to reach for his back so you can see his face but he shrugs you off dismissively. 

“I cant- I have to get this shit perfect, i can just abandon this fuckin’ restaurant because you don't want to sleep alone” Carmen snaps at you. His tone was cruel and belligerent.

Your heart breaks. His words cut deep. You don't know if it's because you're so exhausted but his words hurt.

“oh fuck– shit” carmen whips his body around, when he looks at you his eyes soften, carmen immediately regrets his outburst– he sees the way your body slumps from exhaustion and how your eyes are red and starting to water. He pinches his nose and screws up his features.

“I’m so sorry. I'm an asshole.” he mutters, full of guilt.

“Yeah Carm you are. You promised that you'd come home, then you didn't. I've been waiting for you for five hours. Your whole world revolves around this restaurant." You angrily wave your hands around. This bullshit has gone on too long. 

“Honey, I'm so sorry. I'm so tired I haven't slept properly since fuckin’... forever,”

“Can you just come home, the restaurant can wait,” You wipe the one stray tear that rolls down your face, feeling more vulnerable than scary.

“Okay sweetie, you're right. It can wait.” He says earnestly, Carm hates seeing you cry. It breaks his heart every time, it hurts him even more knowing it's his fault. He grabs your jaw tenderly and kisses your upper lip, his lips taste like cigarette tar.

“Carmy you really gotta stop that habit, you taste like cigarettes” you affectionately push him off of you, hating the dirty flavour cigarettes have.

“Do you forgive me?” he says with pleading eyes.

“Yes.” you pull him towards you by his collar and kiss him back, properly this time.

[missymiffy]

it’s all i want to eat

jackson!joel miller x reader

warnings: NSFW, sexually explicit content, no use of y/n, established relationship, pussy eating, afab reader, cunnilingus, age gap, p w/ lil plot, fingering, Joel is a munch!

summary: you can’t stop thinking about Joel eating you out.

wc: 1k

You only could daydream about Joel eating you out, the way his big board hand would grasp your thighs and grope your ass, or how he would hold your hips still as he soaked his face in your juices.

Yours and Joel’s relationship didn’t have a fitting name– boyfriend made Joel sound 30 years younger, partner made you sound married, fuck buddies sounded too… vulgar.

Anyways, you and Joel didn’t just fuck. you two did couple things too. Like you’d have him and Ellie over for dinner some evenings, and once Ellie leaves to go see Dina, Joel would lift you onto the counter like you weighed nothing and fuck you so hard you felt like Bambi by the end of the evening.

You and Joel had met through patrol, and in your unbiased opinion, you two should not be patrol partners. Joel had fucked you at every look out for every season, you two hadn’t done any work properly since you were partnered up.

~~

It was a beautiful morning in autumn, the leaves crunched under Shimmer’s hooves and the warm sun shone through the bare branches. The way the light reflected onto Joel sent a shiver along your spine and made your heart throb. His shoulders were so broad, but what turned you on even more was how you knew what those shoulders looked like under that tattered jacket.

“Joel.. are you able to come to my place this evening?” you needed him, needed more than you could get from a quickie against a tree or from him finger-fucking you at the next look out.

“You cooked for me recently, let me cook for you for once.” Joel said in a joking tone. Either Joel couldn’t hear it or he was ignoring the want dripping from your voice.

“I don't mean for dinner..” you said almost shamelessly.

“Oh, well I think Ellie is sleeping round Dina’s tonight. We can hang out at my place for a change.” Joel's words were obviously an innuendo, what 50 year old man says ‘hang out’.

“That’d be nice actually, if you don’t mind of course.” 

“What you being all polite for, ‘course i don’t mind”

You fight against your muscles as they try to pull into a grin, Joel's a big softie at heart.

~~

You stand nervously waiting on Joel's doorstep, awkwardly tugging at the hem of your dress, hoping Joel hurries his old ass up and lets you out of the freezing cold—

“Sorry I took a minute I was uh-“ Joel trails off waving his hand beside his ear.

“It’s okay don’t worry” you politely laugh. Joel steps to the side letting you into his house. Joel's house was warm and comforting, it always had the earthy and resinous smell of wood. 

His house felt warm too, flannel blankets were draped along the back of the couch, during cold months Joel always made an effort to keep the fire going. You loved that Joel did this; it always gave his house this beautiful golden glow.

“I like that dress, looks nice on you,” Joel says plopping onto the couch, 

“Thank you,” you say, following and sitting beside him. Joel wraps his arm around you pulling you closer to him. 

“What do you wanna do?” Joel hums into the top of your head. You look up at him and your heart swells. His face is so soft in this light, his eyes are so tender. 

He cups your jaw and pulls your lips together, you hum into his mouth welcoming his tongue past your lips. The movement of your tongues together is a familiar dance, muscle memory. 

You push on top of him straddling his hips, Joel chuckles mockingly and flips you two over, caging you in between his strong arms. He pulls his tongue from your mouth and drags his lips down, across your chin and onto your neck, sucking a blotchy bruise into your sweet spot, you silently sigh at the pleasure.

But Joel detaches his lips from your throat and you whine at the loss of contact, he then slides down the couch to your hips, your legs naturally part for him and he slots himself between them. You watch him flip up your dress with a glint in his eyes and hook his thick fingers along the sides of your panties, you lift your hips letting him pull them all the way off. 

He pulls your knees over his shoulders, your thighs then wrapping around his head. His lips part and hot breath brushes your core. He flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up from the base of your pussy up to your clit. You gasp, this is better than you imagined. 

He hums into your heat, “So– goddamn wet for me…hm?” he says in that damn texan drawl.

Joel kisses the plush of your inner thighs lightly sucking and nipping as he gets closer to where you need him.

 “J-Joel” you choke out.

“Whatchu need, sweetpea? Need me to fuck you with my tounge?”

“Ple-please, Joel” you whine

He brings his ring and his middle finger up into your entrance and slips them into your cunt, pleasure shudders up your spine and escapes as a moan. Joel open mouth kisses your clit lapping and sucking like he's a man starved. 

Joel's tongue is now swirling around your entrance, occasionally pointing his tongue into you. All the while his thumb is pushing circles into your clit. Your head is light and fuzzy when you throw it back in strangled sobs, tension coils deep in your core and the pleasure is almost overwhelming.

Your hips stutter up into his chin and your hands pull at his hair, chasing your orgasm. Joel can feel your build in arousal and fucks you with his tongue, bringing your climax all that much closer– 

“F–fuck!”

Shockwaves travel up and through your spine making you see stars. Your eyes are screwed shut as you pant. Joel's mouth is savouring your arousal humming lustfully, and it's all too much. You squirm and push Joel's head away from your core whining “-‘s too much-ah, s-stop.” 

Joel lifts himself up onto his forearms and you can see your arousal running down his chin, he looks up at you and gives you a big toothy grin, looking so smug that he made you cum as hard as you did.

[missymiffy]

Clark Kent imagines ꪆৎ

you know clark is superman

[missymiffy]

clark kent x reader imagine

You know clark is superman but you haven’t got any proof you just know. You’ve never seen clark and superman in the same room is all your sayin’.

Well, you guess most people haven’t seen their boyfriend and superman together, but clark keeps ‘interviewing’ superman yet there’s no other press of these ‘interviews’..…weird

“Clark can i meet superman”

“Huh-what i’m not- huh?!”

Suspicious…

“You keep interviewing superman you must be friends, can i meet him”

“I’m not friends with superman” clark replied apprehensively

“How do you keep interviewing him then.”

“I-I don’t know i just ask him”

“and he just agrees? that’s kind he must be your friend then” You narrow you eyes at him in hopes that if you glare hard enough, he’ll concede.

“How would you meet him anyways we can’t just invite him for dinner” Clark makes a futile attempt at stopping you.

“What if i just come with you next interview”

“I- No.”

“No?”

Clark huffs dramatically “You are so relentless sometimes”

He’s going to admit it he’s going to tell me that- “I’m Superman”

You almost dislocate your jaw from how fast you lose control “NO WAY” you KNEW it.

“I can’t believe this. Your superman, i’m dating superman”

Clark looks like you bullied the truth out of him, his face is so flustered and his eyes are wide.

“Yeah i’m sorry i didn’t-“

“Don’t apologise Clar-Superman, this is so cool. I am dating Superman the super hero”

“okay, okay”

You knew it, you were right. Your face pulls into a big toothy smile and you can’t help but kissing his gorgeous Superman face.

“I knew it” you smile into his lips.

[missymiffy]